


Wherever You Go, I Will Follow

by vintagelilacs



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Banter, Bondage, Canon Era, Frottage, Grinding, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:40:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22576462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vintagelilacs/pseuds/vintagelilacs
Summary: If Merlin absolutely insisted on disobeying Arthur's orders and following him into danger, the least he could do was not get caught. Though Arthur had to admit there was something compelling about Merlin bound and restrained, and completely helpless.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 35
Kudos: 942





	Wherever You Go, I Will Follow

After three weeks of slogging through the Forest of Ascetir, the Knights of Camelot had yet to catch a glimpse of the sorcerers that had been terrorizing townsfolk along Essetir's border. At the rear of their procession, Gwaine made a crude joke that elicited groans from the other knights. Arthur turned to crack a joke of his own to his manservant, before remembering that Merlin had not accompanied them. His jaw shut with a clack.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t wanted to bring Merlin along. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone this length of time without his bumbling manservant at his side, and it was unsettling, like waking up to find you’d sprouted donkey ears (and yes, Arthur was speaking from experience.) 

As much as he’d secretly wished Merlin was by his side, he’d been resolute against it. Merlin may have had uncanny luck at dodging errant spears and swords, but Arthur refused to put his life at risk when an assembly of sorcerers were implicated. After all, Merlin had no sense of self-preservation whatsoever and lacked any useful survival skills. If they were accidentally separated, he wouldn’t last a day on his own, and as much as he’d been gratified by Merlin’s loyalty, Arthur had sincerely wondered if the idiot valued his life at all. 

“What do you mean I can’t come with you?” Merlin had demanded, his pouty lips pressed in an obstinate line, and his eyes as dark as a storm-tossed sea. That fervent look always sent a shivery pleasure down Arthur’s spine. He found a deep satisfaction in riling Merlin up and provoking him to emotional outbursts. In that instance, however, Merlin’s reaction wasn’t one he’d actively sought out. 

Arthur had folded his arms across his chest, refusing to yield even in the face of Merlin’s angry, imploring gaze. “I meant exactly what I said. You’re staying here in the citadel.” The command was not to be gainsaid, but Merlin had never played the part of dutiful, deferential servant. 

“Like hell I am!” 

_“Merlin.”_

“You’re being ridiculous. You—you’re always saying what a coward I am. How can you expect me to be anything else when you won’t even let me come along?” 

Of course it had been the one time Merlin had actually listened to Arthur’s jabs. “You know very well I didn’t actually mean any of those insults. Just like you don’t mean it when you insult my weight.” He’d given Merlin the perfect opportunity to joke at his expense, but his manservant clung to anger with an impressive grip. 

“Why can’t I come along?” 

“Because I said so.” 

The angry flush on Merlin’s cheeks deepened. There was something darkly compelling about Merlin in the throes of anger. It was a large part of why Arthur enjoyed needling him. 

For a moment, Arthur had let his eyes slip shut, imagining that Merlin’s insistence wasn’t born from a sense of obligation, but because he desired—no, _craved_ —to be with Arthur, that he couldn’t stand to be away from his king.

Forcing Merlin to stay behind was the sensible, conscionable thing. No other respected king would jeopardize the life of a clumsy, innocent manservant who couldn’t even pick up a sword without accidentally nicking himself in the process. “You can continue to argue with me, Merlin, but I must warn that you’ll be wasting your breath.” 

Arthur had left without a backwards glance, even when he caught Merlin’s mutter of, “stupid prattish clotpole”. 

He didn’t know how his manservant was spending all his free-time in the subsequent weeks, but he suspected a lot of pouting or drunken revelry in the tavern was involved. 

After another solid hour of trekking through the undergrowth, Arthur issued a short break, and stopped to wash his face at a silt-laden creek. He’d gathered a handful of water in his palms when a startled shout rang out. He withdrew his sword, the blade silent as it left its scabbard in an expert draw. Tightly clutched in his right fist, he launched through the trees toward the source of the cry. 

The shout had come from one of their newer knights, Sir Ector. The knight was surrounded by cloaked men and women, but strangely, they were all unconscious. Arthur stooped to check the pulse of an ebon-haired woman, before freezing. Her neck was covered in sigils, and an amulet rested at the dip of her collarbone. These weren’t civilians. They were most assuredly sorcerers. 

“What happened here?” 

“They ambushed me.” 

“And then?” 

“They… they just dropped dead!”

_Not dead_ , Arthur corrected silently. _Unconscious._ “They fit the description of the sorcerers terrorizing the townspeople. Round them up and bind them. We’ll bring them back to Camelot’s dungeon.” While their dungeons were hardly foolproof, the bars were made with true iron, and had proven to absorb magical onslaughts. 

The sorcerers were restrained, but Arthur remained ill at ease. He held tight to his sword. If they were all powerful sorcerers, then only a greater force could have overpowered them and stolen their consciousness, and Arthur fully intended to locate the source for himself. 

He ordered the knights to stay where they were and scouted ahead. Signs of disturbance marked the grass and soil—footprints, cracked twigs, flattened plants that had been trodden on. He tracked the footprints to a clearing. His jaw fell open, and he nearly lost his grip on his sword. 

His eyes must have been playing tricks on him. There was no way that was Merlin standing there, and yet, those large ears and grubby scarf couldn’t have belonged to anyone else. Arthur opened his mouth, intent on demanding what the hell Merlin thought he was doing in the bloody woods when he’d been specifically ordered not to follow them, but his words caught in his throat. He and Merlin weren’t the only ones in the area. 

A cloaked figure, dressed in garb similar to the band of subdued sorcerers, lunged at Merlin from behind, conking him rather effectively over the head with a wooden stave. 

Arthur’s first instinct was to rush to Merlin’s defense, but it would be foolish to surrender the element of surprise. It was the only advantage he had over the sorcerer. He waited, his body taut with tension. 

The sorcerer procured a length of rope. Instead of strangling Merlin, the sorcerer instead tied his hands together, and carried him off. 

Arthur’s heart clobbered his rib-cage. He crept forward, tailing them at enough of a distance to ensure he would go undetected, but close enough that he wasn’t at risk of losing sight of them. The sorcerer carried Merlin into a small cave. 

What the hell was going on? Did they intend to use Merlin as a sacrifice? He’d hardly make a worthy captive. 

Arthur crept forward, squinting in the low torchlight as he entered the cave. The tunnel led to a wide chamber. 

“Emrys.” The sorcerer spoke in a sibilant voice. “You will join our cause or perish.” 

Arthur didn’t know who he was addressing, or who this Emrys was. Merlin, for his part, was still very much unconscious. His arms and wrists were secured above his head. Now that Arthur was closer, he could see that Merlin’s hair was dishevelled and smeared with dirt, and a line of blood crusted along his brow. His shirt hung in tatters over his lean frame.

Arthur could see his nipples. They were stiff and pebbled from the cold. Arthur shook his head with a silent admonishment. _Focus!_

Completely oblivious to Arthur’s gawking, the sorcerer faced his back to him and crossed the room. He stopped in front of an earthenware pot and began to utter words in a foreign tongue. Arthur didn’t know the nature of the spell being cast, but it was evidently malicious in nature. Panic stuttered through Arthur. This was precisely his impetus for ordering Merlin to stay behind. It was everything he’d wanted to avoid. 

Before the sorcerer could finish incanting, Arthur thrust his sword clean through the sorcerer’s body. He could dredge up no mercy for someone who would target an innocent like Merlin, nor would he put his manservant at risk by offering the sorcerer a chance to surrender. The sorcerer made a horrible gurgling sound, bloodied saliva dribbling from the corners of his mouth. 

Arthur procured a cloth and wiped the blood from his blade before sheathing it. He stepped away from the corpse, and approached his manservant. Merlin was so still. It was odd seeing his body frozen and suspended, rather than the usual uncoordinated flurry of limbs and constant motion. The only indication he was alive was the shallow rise and fall of his chest. 

Arthur examined the cut on Merlin’s forehead, tracing it gently with a finger. It was only a superficial wound. He wiped the blood away. It would need bandages and ointment to ensure it didn’t get infected. 

Merlin’s eyelids fluttered. Arthur yanked his hand back and put a respectable distance between them.

With a groan, Merlin’s eyes opened fully, blinking up at Arthur’s scowling profile. 

“Merlin.” His voice was low and dangerous. 

“‘lo,” Merlin croaked back. 

“Would you care to explain to me what you were doing?” 

“Um… running an errand? For Gaius?” 

“Do I look like an idiot, Merlin?” 

“I don’t think you want to know my answer to that.” 

He crossed his arms. “How did you beat me and the knights here?” 

“I took a secret short-cut.” 

“What short-cut?” 

“It wouldn’t be a secret if I told you, now would it?”

“Merlin!” he barked. 

Merlin fixed him with a guileless expression. That feigned innocence may have tricked a stranger, but Arthur knew him too well. Oh, he was definitely getting punished. 

“I’m rather surprised you made it all this way without tipping me and my men off.” Impressed, even. “Not so surprised you got yourself captured, though.” 

Merlin rolled his eyes. 

Arthur stepped closer, ostensibly to examine the ropes. “They did a firm job. I imagine it’s starting to chafe.” 

“Would you let me down already?” Merlin’s arms flexed as he pulled vainly at the rope restraints. 

“Now why would I do that?” 

Merlin spluttered, but Arthur didn’t pause to let him speak. 

“You disobeyed my direct order. And look where it got you.” Bound with his arms pulled high over his head, elongating his slim body and drawing attention to his musculature and lithesome frame. The tattered state of his shirt was an added bonus.  
The sight of Merlin helpless and restrained awakened something in Arthur. 

It was cool in the cave, and most of Merlin’s chest was exposed. His nipples peaked from the cold temperature, and Arthur quashed the impulse to touch one. 

That would definitely be crossing boundaries, and abusing his power. Of course, that didn’t mean he couldn’t look. 

He made a slow circuit around Merlin. “Look at you all helpless. And entirely at my mercy.” 

Merlin huffed, craning his neck to follow Arthur’s movements, but was unable to get very far. Arthur took his time drinking in the sight of Merlin’s taut, bound body and committed it to memory. 

When he stood fully behind Merlin, he came to a full stop. It wasn’t often he was granted the chance to properly ogle his manservant. He usually had to resign himself to fleeting, furtive glances. Now, though, he could look his full. 

Merlin was thin and lanky, but his arse was perfectly rounded. Arthur imagined stepping forward and giving that pert flesh a firm squeeze, watching it yield to him. 

He swallowed, lifting his eyes from Merlin’s pert bottom before his own arousal became untenable. 

“I hope you’ve learned something from all this,” Arthur continued. 

“That you’re an insufferable ass?” 

“I’d watch your mouth if I were you. I am your only chance at getting free.” He ran an idle finger down the length of Merlin’s arms. His servant deserved a bit of teasing. Disobedience couldn’t be rewarded, at any rate. 

“Help me down!” Merlin hissed. He was starting to look rather flushed in the face. Arthur stepped back, dragging his gaze over Merlin. His expression was mutinous and… _oh._ Arthur swallowed. Merlin’s lower half seemed to be enjoying the proceedings. Rather enthusiastically, in fact. Huh. Perhaps it was the bondage that did it for him? 

“Arthur!” 

“You appear quite happy where you are,” Arthur commented, nodding at the bulge in Merlin’s trousers. 

“Either untie me or—” Merlin cut himself off. 

“Or what?” Arthur prompted, leaning in so that his mouth was barely an inch from Merlin’s. 

“Or touch me,” Merlin husked. 

Arthur’s heart pounded. Had he understood that correctly? There could only be one meaning, surely. Merlin’s blue eyes appeared darker than usual. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and the tantalizing pink swipe of his tongue made Arthur’s cock twitch. Before he could question Merlin’s words or give him time to rescind the order, Arthur lunged forwards, cupping Merlin’s jaw in his hands and capturing his mouth. His lips were chapped and dry, but Arthur sucked at them until they were slick and red. 

Merlin kissed back enthusiastically, his arms straining against their bonds, as if subconsciously trying to touch Arthur in return, in spite of the restraints. Arthur sucked Merlin’s lower lip between his own and worried it with his teeth. By the time he pulled back, Merlin was panting, and his eyes were half-lidded and fogged with lust. 

Arthur pressed his lips to the hinge of Merlin’s jaw, and held Merlin’s head in place by slipping a firm hand into his hair. He swallowed Merlin’s moan with his mouth. 

“A-ah!” Merlin’s hips canted forwards, seeking friction. 

Arthur leaned back, putting distance between their bodies. He was the one setting the pace, he was the one in control, and he was going to do what he wanted. Starting with touching the hard pink nipple he’d admired earlier. Merlin hissed when he drew a blunt nail over it. 

Arthur couldn’t stop his hands from roving over bare flesh. He tore the remains of Merlin’s shirt roughly away. The carnal desire his manservant ignited in him was hardly new or novel, but something about the illusion of control, of having Merlin completely at his mercy, made Arthur’s heart beat painfully fast. 

“I’ve dreamt of this. Of having you like this. Mine, to do whatever I wish to.” 

“You already do whatever you want to me,” Merlin protested. 

“Hardly.” Merlin had no idea the thoughts that ran through his head on a daily basis. 

He sucked on his thumb until it was wet with saliva, then smeared it around Merlin’s nipple, leaving the rosy bud glistening. Merlin threw his head back and let out a low whine. 

“Sensitive, are we?” Arthur applied light pressure, before gently twisting. 

Merlin strained against his restraints, the twitch of his cock visible through the wet spot forming on his trousers. 

Arthur's heart raced. He’d never heard of anyone being so sensitive there. Could he make Merlin come like this? Just from playing with his nipples? It was something he’d definitely like to explore. 

He applied light pressure to both nipples, teasing and twisting them to his content, even as Merlin squirmed. Wasn’t that a sight to behold: insubordinate, mouthy manservant reduced to a gasping, writhing mess.

Reaching down to give his own cock a harsh squeeze, Arthur lowered his head and fitted his lips around a perfect, hard nipple. He gave it a suck that earned a high gasp. 

“P-please. I need—”

“I don’t particularly care what you need, Merlin.” He kissed his way up Merlin’s heaving chest before leaning back to meet his eyes. “You disobeyed my direct orders, endangered yourself, and managed to get captured.”

“I—”

“You’re not allowed to endanger yourself. You’re mine, remember?” Arthur realized belatedly how that sounded. He hadn’t meant to imply Merlin was his property, or a possession. He only meant, well, Merlin was _his_ manservant. 

He half-expected Merlin to protest and refute the statement, but instead his head dipped in a shallow nod. “Yours,” he agreed. “Only yours, Arthur.” 

Arthur froze, unable to keep his mouth from falling open a little in surprise. “Good,” he managed eventually, a raspy quality to his voice. He supposed Merlin deserved to be rewarded for his obeisance. 

He lightly traced the outline of Merlin’s cock, before applying pressure with the heel of his hand. Merlin’s hips bucked forwards, grinding against Arthur’s palm. Arthur’s other hand reached around to slip beneath the hem of Merlin’s trousers and get a fistful of his plush arse. He teased him further, dipping between his cheeks to press lightly against his hole. Merlin’s reception was positive, if his drawn-out moan was any indication. 

Arthur massaged gently around his opening, pressing where he was most sensitive. 

_“Fuck me.”_

Arthur’s cock jumped, aching and twitching with arousal. He wasn’t sure he’d ever heard Merlin beg like that before. He’d certainly never heard his voice take on that desperate pitch, or heard such coarse words tumble from his lips. Arthur wanted nothing more than to oblige him. He wanted to bury himself inside of Merlin’s warmth. He wanted their bodies to be joined in every way possible. 

_“Arthur.”_

“No.” 

“Arthur, you don’t understand. I need you to. I need it. _Please._ ” 

Arthur was going to come if Merlin didn’t stop begging. “Not here. Not like this.” Not with the corpse of a sorcerer less than ten feet away. It was madness they were even doing this much. He wanted to make Merlin come in his trousers. The sadistic side of Arthur delighted in the idea of Merlin having to make the journey back to Camelot in trousers soiled with drying come. He liked watching Merlin squirm. He also very much liked the idea of seeing Merlin’s cock, and getting a hand on it. Or better yet, feeling it against his own. 

“But—”

“Your legs aren’t bound, are they?” With a bit of awkward maneuvering, Merlin wrapped his legs around Arthur’s waist and Arthur finally got a proper handful of Merlin’s plump arse. The sheer thrill of Merlin’s cock rammed firmly against his own made his vision spin. 

Merlin let out a cry as they rutted against each other. He really didn’t know how to shut up, but Arthur didn’t mind in the least. If he had the presence of mind, he’d devote his focus to memorizing the sound of Merlin’s moans and wails.

The push and pull of fabric against Arthur’s cock was too much and not enough all at once. He tightened his hold on Merlin, his grip bruising and possessive. Against him, he felt Merlin’s cock throb and spasm. With a shuddering moan, a hot rush of wetness dampened the front of Merlin’s trousers. For a split second, Arthur could’ve sworn Merlin’s eyes turned gold, but it was likely a trick of the torchlight. 

Boneless from his release, Merlin sagged against Arthur, but Arthur had been trained to kill since birth, and his arms were more than capable of supporting Merlin’s full weight. Arthur’s hips drove faster against the hard planes of Merlin’s body, rutting against him in an animal frenzy. 

Merlin was gorgeous like this, his eyes glassy and unfocused, his dark hair slick with sweat, his cheeks flushed red, and his full lips slack with pleasure. 

Arthur’s cock swelled further to the point of release. He came in waves of pleasure that left him floaty and lightheaded. 

Once his vision stopped spinning, he extricated himself from Merlin and cut the ropes binding his wrists. Merlin collapsed against him. They staggered backwards, before sinking into an undignified heap. 

Merlin’s mouth landed near Arthur’s collarbone. He exhaled damp, wet breaths, before pressing an open-mouthed kiss to Arthur’s clavicle. 

They really ought to return to the knights, but Arthur was content to curl up with him on the cold stone floor and bask in the ecstasy of the moment. 

Next time they would do this in Arthur’s chambers, and they’d languish in bed for the rest of the day. Arthur would take Merlin slowly, draw it out until he was incoherent with lust. 

Arthur’s arm instinctively curled around Merlin, hugging him to his chest. “Merlin?”

“Mm?”

“Don’t ever get captured like that again.”

Warm breath stirred against him. Merlin craned his neck to meet his gaze. “Only if you promise not to leave me behind again.” 

It wasn’t the worst compromise Arthur had had to make.

**Author's Note:**

> hello i am back


End file.
